


The Proposal

by Unified820



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unified820/pseuds/Unified820
Summary: Fenris pops the question.





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my husband on our sixth wedding anniversary. A one-shot inspired by our life and relationship.

Hawke nestled until he found that one spot where they fit together perfectly despite their size difference. He was several inches taller, and his broad shoulders and chest made the position an awkward choice, but he would have it no other way.

“Stop fidgeting,” the low and barely audible voice whispered from the crook of his neck.

“It's your fault,” Hawke contested in a fake pout.

Fenris sighed with a puff of air blowing away Hawke's raven hair from his eyes. “You're like a hound circling his bed before he will rest.”

“Yes, and if your hip bones weren't as sharp as your gauntlets, this wouldn't be a problem.”

“No, the problem lies in your insistence in sitting in such a difficult posture.” Fenris renewed the ineffective wrap of his lanky limbs around Hawke's waist and legs.

“Shush, you're ruining the moment,” Hawke playfully chided as he wriggled his backside one more time against the now harder protrusion between Fenris’s thighs.

“ _You_ are going to ruin that ring if you keep swirling it,” Fenris growled.

“Not likely,” retorted Hawke, doing his best not to laugh at the ticklish feel of Fenris’s fingers snaking their way under his shirt and mapping across his chiseled abdomen. “I know you have impeccable taste and had this custom made with my fidgeting in mind.”

“I did,” Fenris confessed and brushed a kiss at the nape of Hawke’s neck. The feeling of wet, chapped lips against his skin sent electric shocks through Hawke’s veins. If he were honest, every touch since their very first had an overwhelming effect. He had learned to control his response in time, as to not embarrass himself in public or under the scrutiny of Isabella’s salacious eye, but it still took considerable effort.

Hawke could not hold back the guttural moan that refused supression as Fenris dragged his lips along Hawke’s skin, synched with the slow crawl of warm fingers across his chest. “We will miss the star’s fall if you keep this up.”

“Is that supposed to be a deterrent?” Fenris rolled his hips just enough to make a point.

“You went through a lot of effort to set up this proposal. Just because I said, ‘yes’ does not mean that you are free from further obligation to declare your love under the romantic lights of falling stars.” Hawke jostled from Fenris’s full chested laugh.

“You are right of course. I will do my best to wait until you cannot stand it any longer and scoop me up in your arms.” Fenris squeezed Hawke’s waist as he rode out his laughter.

“Why do I have to scoop you up? That's not how it goes in Varric’s novels. The dashing hero always sweeps his lover off her feet to carry her to a happy ending after she breathlessly agrees to his intimate and romantic request for her hand in marriage.”

“Yes, Amatus, but this is not one of Varric’s stories, and you are not a waif of a woman likely to swoon. You are the Champion of Kirkwall, Defender of the Inquisition, and almost twice my size.”

Hawke sat up indignantly and turned to face his fiancé. “I've never heard you complain when you're pinned beneath me,” he snipped with a devilish smirk on his face.

“And I never will,” Fenris brushed his nose against Hawke’s. “So silence yourself and enjoy the star fall and I promise I will continue my declarations of love.” Hawke smiled and let Fenris pull him back against his chest, this time with his head resting against Fenris’s shoulder.

The two sat quietly, cuddled into each other while the sky lit up with streaks of light cutting along the arc of the horizon. The crisp cool night air encouraged their proximity, and Hawke felt at peace for the first time in years. Hard fighting seemed over, and he wondered what life would be like without death shadowing their door.

Their door.

The thought of finally sharing one home with Fenris felt surreal. They had always divided their time between each other's estates when not camping on the run or some fool quest. Hawke let his breath release on a heavy sigh as he considered how much a few words would change their lives. He began absentmindedly stroking Fenris’s arm as he followed his thoughts to the future he and Fenris could share.

“Careful, Amatus or Varric will call you the broody one.” Fenris entwined his fingers with Hawke’s. Hawke laughed at the audacity of the idea that anyone could ever steal the title from the broodiest man he had ever met.

“I was just thinking about the future. Everyone and thing is scattered and unsettled.”

“Our friends would sooner surrender to another Blight than miss the opportunity to share this with us.” Hawke was always grateful that Fenris could read him like an open book, a book Hawke had patiently and carefully taught him to read. “Shall I tell you of our wedding?”

“If we can even arrange one,” Hawke replied dejectedly. He knew the difficulty they would have in finding a safe place and way for everyone to be together again anytime soon.

“Hush,” consoled Fenris with the deep gravel of his voice that Hawke loved so well. “It will be outdoors. A canopy of stars will light the evening sky to remind us of the night we met, the night we fell in love, and the night I swept you off your feet with a romantic proposal and then broke my back carrying you away to a happy future.”

Hawke huffed and shifted roughly in Fenris’s lap. Fenris chuckled and peppered chaste kisses on Hawke’s cheek. “Don't stop,” Hawke pleaded so quietly Fenris would have missed it but for their close embrace.

Fenris paused to kiss Hawke’s temple and nestle him in his chest. “You will enchant fairy lights to float around everyone to bask the setting in a soft golden glow,” he continued. “Leliana will sing for us and play her strings. You will wear brilliant ornate robes in the colors of your house and home country. I will have new leathers to match, your house crest embroidered on the lapel. Neither of us will need armor or weapons.”

“I like the idea of not needing to be on guard,” murmured Hawke.

Fenris hummed in agreement. “Isabella will lead our vows under her authority as a captain. Carver will be your best man because he would have a fit otherwise and it's easier to agree than fight.” Hawke sighed in acceptance of the truth of Fenris’s assessment.

“Sebastian will stand by me. Varric will be understanding as always, content to make the arrangements and have fodder for another novel. Aveline will keep everyone in line and Merrill will adorn the setting with a beautiful display of flowers befitting the season.”

“I wish,” Hawke started before Fenris interrupted.

“We will have a memorial setting of honor for those whom cannot be by our side. Sebastian will offer a prayer for their comfort in the fade and request they watch over us and protect our future: our mothers, our sisters, your father…and Anders.”

Hawke stilled his breath. “You're okay with that?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, Amatus. Whatever he was, whatever choices he made, he was still your friend, and I owe him for saving you from death more than once. He will always have a place in our life.”

“Our life,” Hawke repeated with reverence.

“We will write our vows. Yours will be witty and charming and have everyone in tears. Mine will be heartfelt, a mix of Tevene and Common because some sentiments do not translate well enough to satisfy; I will have you in tears.”

“I do not cry,” Hawke countered.

“Yes you do and you will, but I will brush your tears away with the soft touch of my thumb on your cheek, and I will kiss the salt from your skin as I whisper how much I adore you.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Hawke tilted his head to lean against Fenris's chin, content and fulfilled.

Fenris kissed Hawke's hair and lazily brushed his fingers through it as the last of the star fall faded. “It will be my love, I promise you.”


End file.
